We rejoin our heroine on her quest from the land of No Hope and Stress to find peace of mind and satisfaction, and she is pleased, for she is enjoying the mission more than she could e’er have hoped, and though she still faces the adversities of social media and the potholes of complex software, she takes much joy in the sense of purpose this journey provides.
Now the woman turns around, and back along the path she sees a group of people walking behind her. Some of these people she recognises as friends; other she hath ne’ev before set eyes upon. And she feels at once supported by this lowly rabble, for though they lack basic hygiene and smell a bit, they are kind enough to listen to her words and encourage her to continue on her quest, and she takes great comfort and joy in their comments, and in regularly viewing her stats page, and all this feeds her desire to go on, for she cannot believe that sending out a few emails and Facebook messages could create such a wonderous response. And she looks back at the crowd that have gathered, many of whom are wise and carry vast experience of the world, and she is gladdened and gratified by their commendation.
But she also feels the weight of their gaze, for many of them hath knowledge that far outstrips her own, and carry with them linguistic elegance and letters after their names, and she is at once petrified that she will fall and expose her clumsiness and stupidity to those that walk behind her. For she is but a drugs worker, a public servant, and while her experience of depression, deprivation and wound botulism is great, ne’ev before hath she trod the literary path, and she knows not what is expected of her, and it has been many miles since she left her Comfort Zone, and she is scared.
And the traveller fears she will tread the wrong path and take the kindly clan down a road which may not fulfil their needs, their desires, their own quests for knowledge, and she is filled with angst that the track she chooses to follow may become unclear and dull, and that she may fritter away the support which these followers offer or, worse still, she may take them on a path on which they lose the will to live and die of boredom.
But then she has a word with herself and realises that she is being that a dimwitted narcissist, a despicable ignoramus, an unworthy cretin, for these people are not a burden but a joyous blessing, a gift sent to help her, to kick her if she slows, to redirect her if she wanders, and she asks the crowd always to be honest and provide genuine feedback, harsh though it may be, to keep her on the path which she needs to be on. For these are her clients now, since she hath traded the needle for the pen, the script for the script, and when she thinks of those she left behind and how they hung from her so she ne’er before was able to progress, and told her daily how she failed them despite her best efforts (for she hath not a magic wand, and could not turn water into methadone, nor loaves into pregablin), and she compares them with this vibrant cluster who now stand behind her, she is glad for the choices she has made, and she wants not only to take these people with her on her quest, but also to serve them and give them everything their hearts desire.